


Promises to Keep

by marourin, ourgirlfriday



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark Erik, M/M, slenderman mythos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marourin/pseuds/marourin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourgirlfriday/pseuds/ourgirlfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a child Charles unknowingly made a pact with an entity in the forest for protection against his abusive step father and brother. Ten years later the entity has returned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises to Keep

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to Marourin and her fantastic [ art ](http://marourin.tumblr.com/post/60227843076/my-entry-for-xmrbb-2013-promises-to). I hope I do it justice. Also huge thanks to Miki for betaing.

Mother and Kurt were fighting again. Their voices and thoughts echoed through Westchester’s normally silent halls, and Charles’s head ached under the force of their anger. He couldn’t breathe or think because

- _she’s disgusting always in the drink and weak-_

_-but oh Kurt he thinks he’s so brilliant maybe he is maybe but I’m the one with the money he needs he’s not half the man Brian was-_

_-could kill her I could_ \--

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have followed Cain. In the past he’d been able to hide or turn his stepbrother aside with a thought, a useful skill considering that Kurt and Cain alike were quick to anger. Even stray cats that cook fed avoided them for fear of receiving an unprompted kick.

However, Charles didn’t have the energy say no when Cain grabbed his wrist hard enough to leave a bracelet of dark bruises and pulled him down the hall and out the front door into the night. He wished, not for the first time, that Erik would come back and that things could be _quiet_ again.

Of all the things Kurt and Cain did to him since they moved in to Westchester, making Erik leave hurt the most. Charles and Erik had always been together, even in Charles’s earliest memories of his old nursery. It didn’t even bother him that he couldn’t hear Erik’s thoughts. With all the thoughts buzzing around Westchester all the time, Charles hardly ever experienced the luxury of silence.

Erik was never too busy or too tired for him, unlike his mother and father. And after father’s accident, Erik had held him and told him he’d never be alone, and that Erik would protect him. They would protect each other. But Erik went away when Kurt and Cain came, and left Charles alone.

“What’re we doing out here?” Charles choked out as he eyed Cain’s back. Cain’s mind loudly broadcasted images from a special on folklore he’d seen on television. Reality could be thin at a crossroads, or so the special had explained. Even without full use of his telepathy, Charles knew Cain’s path would end at the strange trails that intersected deep in the woods.

They were close enough to the forest’s edge to still be surrounded by familiar trees, the ones bearing an inexpertly carved Ⓧ near the base. One afternoon three summers ago, before the Markos were anything more to him than unpleasant family friends, he and Erik had run of the woods. The cook had called the groundskeeper to assist with some errand or another indoors. Erik and Charles had taken the opportunity to mark the trees with his family insignia -- X for Xavier. Erik’s laugh echoed around him as they ran between the trees, his quicksilver eyes glimmering with joy. It hadn’t even mattered that Erik wasn’t real.

“Just takin’ a walk, your majesty”, Cain snapped and pulled harder on Charles’ arm, nearly tripping him over tree roots as he stumbled to keep up with his stepbrother’s longer steps. Charles tried to wriggle out of Cain’s grasp as he looked into his step-brother’s mind as much as his bruised telepathy would allow. Cain’s thoughts remained unchanged, although Charles couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of what Cain had seen in that special, something about getting rid of unwanted things.

“Lemme go!”

“ _Stop it_ ,” Cain hissed as he spun around, thoughts bursting with irritation and, buried deep, whispers that the tree branches looked like skeletal arms reaching for him. The usual night sounds seemed full of warning. Charles narrowed his eyes and wished again for Erik.

Erik always had good ideas, even if no one else could see him or hear him or feel him. Erik wouldn’t hate him for not being able to make Cain go. Not when his head still hurt, even this far away from Westchester. But Charles hadn’t seen Erik for almost two years. The adults, aside from his mother -- who hadn’t spared a thought for her odd son’s well-being since before the wedding -- approved, assuming he’d outgrown the need for an imaginary friend.

Charles had never felt so lonely in his life.

A sharp snap echoed around them. _I’m nearly seven and what’s to be scared of in these stupid old woods_ , he repeated to himself. Trees pressed in from all sides, filtering the moon and leaving them in near total darkness. Slender limbs and boughs caught and tore at his clothing, and through a trick of the light or the suggestion of Cain’s overheard fears, they seemed to be reaching out for him.

Piercing shrieks wailed from nearby, making both boys jump; despite the cold, Charles broke into a clammy sweat. “It’s just a fox,” Cain said, but Charles could tell that the bravado covered fear, even without using telepathy.

“Maybe we should go back,” Charles whispered, looking into the gloom. The back of his neck prickled and he finally knew what people meant when they said they felt like they were being watched.

Cain growled as anger overtook his mind. He pushed Charles backwards, shoving violently and drawing his fist back. _Oh, not again_ , Charles thought in the moment before Cain’s fist connected with his cheekbone, a dull smack echoing through the trees. Sharp pain bloomed across his face and he bit his tongue as he stumbled back. Blood trickled down his throat, making him retch. Cain pressed forward, shoving and so very angry and he couldn’t take it when his mind still felt so raw from mother and Kurt and _when would it be quiet_?

“Freak,” Cain panted as he pushed at Charles, knocking him down to the unexpectedly soft forest floor. He reached out telepathically, desperate to make Cain stop, but he couldn’t do it, not when his mind ached like a fresh burn.

“Freak, you’re a sissy freak,” Cain mocked as he kicked Charles in the back again and again. Screams tore through the woods. At first he thought they belonged to the foxes, until he recognized his own voice blending with the crickets and owls. Everything hurt. He just wanted it to stop; he’d do anything to make it _stop_.

Then, to his surprise, it did. Charles pushed himself to his elbows and looked over his shoulder. Cain stood motionless, mid kick. Stranger still, aside from Charles, nothing made a sound. His harsh panting and rapid heartbeat might well be audible for miles. Something -- likely a leaf or branch _or hand_ \-- tenderly brushed the rapidly swelling flesh by his eye. His hands reached out under their own will to repel the touch, but encountered nothing. The trees stood as silent guards as he gingerly pulled himself to his feet.

A branch broke nearby. Charles whirled around, but only saw a sea of trees. Something _fingers it’s fingers_ ran up his arm. Jerking around, he frantically searched through the trees, chasing the sound of faint whispering -- a soft, steady, unintelligible murmur that sounded, if only for a moment, like Erik. He stumbled backwards until he hit a tree trunk. Charles swallowed down his panic and slumped against the wood.

Then -- slowly, nearly imperceptibly, the tree behind him moved.

Something pale and slender gently caressed his cheek while a soft, muffled cooing sound danced past his ear. The tree that couldn’t be a tree held him steady as it stepped around him and into the moonlight. It -- he? -- stood tall, much taller than Kurt, even, but so _very_ thin. He wore a dark suit and tie and Charles almost felt relieved, because a grown-up had come, and could help him get back to the estate. Then his mind caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

The man had no face.

Sallow skin covered the whole of its head, stretching over where eyes or nose or mouth should be, and far smoother than any person Charles had ever seen. When Charles felt for its mind, he only found a cool blankness. His screams died in his throat as it reached out a long spidery arm and palmed Charles’ cheek, tracing softly over his wound. The soft murmuring gained furious intensity.

It turned towards Cain and growled, moving far too quickly towards the other boy. Charles wanted to run, but was frozen. He watched helplessly as the man with no face grabbed Cain, who didn’t -- _couldn’t_ \-- escape. It crouched down, and shrieked. Cain came out of his stupor and wailed as it began to drag him to the woods. Together they disappeared between one heartbeat and the next.

His stepbrother’s fading screams were the only sign Cain was ever there.

After either a moment or an eternity the forest rushed back to life in a deafening cacophony of bird and tree and insect, with Charles joining its ranks again as he screamed and screamed until his vision narrowed to a pinprick and everything went black.

*****

Charles woke to the soft, muted colors of the sunrise; but whether it a day had passed or a week he didn’t know. His throat felt like he had swallowed gravel, and his stomach ached and twisted with hunger and fear. Bracing himself against his throbbing head and back, Charles looked around, trying to figure out where he was, and how he came to be there. In front of him, long grooves ran into the forest. Then, the events from the previous night flooded Charles’s brain.

“ _Cain_ ,” he shouted, tears blurring his vision until he could barely the carvings on the trees. “ _Cain, where are you_?” His voice sounded unsteady and barely understandable, even to his own ears. He cast his mind widely, equally hopeful and terrified about what he might find. Cain’s familiar patterns were nowhere. Same thing for the fuzzy blank space occupied by...by the man.

Charles looked around for any sign of his stepbrother, and his stomach dropped as he took in the state of the forest. In the light everything looked almost friendly -- except that all the trees as far as he could see were marked with his Ⓧ. Tears pricked at his eyes as he pulled himself onto a nearby tree stump. At his feet, two paths intersected, all four sides leading into the dense wood.

So Cain had succeeded in bringing him to the crossroad, then.

He picked a direction that he thought headed towards Westchester and started off. Somewhere ahead he could feel the brushes of Rupert washing the cars as he did every Friday morning. Ahead, Kurt and Mother’s minds hummed in their rooms, resisting wakefulness. The trees surrounding him bore the Ⓧ, but they were his marks now, his and Erik’s, done with their own shaky hands. He ran, trampling through the final line of trees and over the lawn. Rupert bristled with irritation as he raced into the garage, but this was important.

“Mr. Rupert, please! Cain’s gone. We were in the woods and a tall man came, and Cain’s gone!”

Rupert’s irritation grew, but _why_? Charles gasped out loud as he found the cause, just as Rupert began to speak.

“I haven’t got time for your games or imaginary friends, Mr. Xavier. You know as well as I that there’s no Cain here.”

*****

Everyone told the same story. Mrs. Davis, the cook, thought his imagination bore the blame, after spending a night in the woods alone. Mother and Kurt didn’t much care so long as he didn’t bother _them_ \-- although at his age, imaginary friends were unseemly. Sometimes Kurt looked lost and confused, like he caught the tail end of a memory but couldn’t ferret it out, but nothing ever came of it.

Cain’s possessions convinced no one. Charles had thought -- hoped -- that they would prove him right, in the end. The faceless man could maybe take memories, but how can you argue against physical evidence? But everyone said that Westchester was an old house, after all, and a grand one at that. There were bound to be things of all stripes tucked away. Never mind they were all in one room, and never mind that they were all recently purchased.

After weeks of insisting on Cain’s existence, Mother made him see someone, a _therapist_ , she would whisper, scandalized. Stephen was a kind man with warm thoughts, but Charles could tell he didn’t believe Cain existed, either. Still, he liked having someone with whom he could talk. Charles told him about the woods, and the noises, and mother’s fight with Kurt, and all he could remember about the man. Stephen smiled and told him he had been very brave, but thought loudly about his mother and Kurt’s fighting. Charles wished he could tell Stephen that quarrels occurred frequently in Westchester, despite the sound and fury Charles was mostly used to them. But he had learned long ago not to respond to people’s thoughts, unless they were spoken out loud.

Charles left the appointment more frustrated than ever.

That night he dreamed of the tall man, though he seemed different, now. His skin looked less unreal, and he had gained the faint outline of a wide mouth. He had no eyes or nose to speak of, but at the same time his face seemed to have the potential, like a sculpture in the beginning phases of creation.

They were in the woods again. The tall man stood behind him, flush to Charles’ back, running his long fingers through Charles’ hair. He raised one finger to his would-be mouth, and Charles could feel the suggestion of hot breath on his neck. “ _Never alone never again Charles with you always_ ” echoed in his mind as he jolted awake. It was the first night of many that he woke in a cold sweat, heart fluttering madly in his chest.

*****

The next week, he gathered his things and found his mother at 12:35.

“Are we going into town now?”

Sharon looked up from her letters, cross. “Whatever for, Charles? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Don’t we have an appointment? With Stephen? To talk?” Sharon narrowed her eyes and radiated irritation.

“Really, Charles, you and your daydreams. If you insist upon having imaginary friends, at least be respectful enough to keep them to yourself.”

Charles’ blood froze. He searched her thoughts, but she wasn’t lying, not intentionally. As far as his mother was concerned, Stephen didn’t exist. When he had a moment to dial the operator, they had no record of anyone named Stephen Rogers practicing in the Westchester area.

It must have been the tall man. Charles had told Stephen, and he disappeared. He’d not get out again, at least not through Charles.

He kept that promise to himself for over ten years.

*****

_Eleven years later_

Charles’ eyes shone as he took in the full shine and thrum of Cerebro for the first time.

“It’s wonderful,” he breathed as Hank reverently adjusted the headpiece. They shared a proud look before Charles manfully skipped to the platform. “Hank, think of what this means.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Hank muttered wryly as he placed the helmet on Charles’ head. “Let’s start small, and go from there.”

“You’re sure Professor Stryker’s granted us full oversight over this?” he asked, not for the first time, as he readjusted the headpiece.

“Of course,” Hank called. “And it’s not like they can run it without us. We’re fine, Charles. Ready?”

Charles shot Hank a mental thumbs up, and waited, not daring to breathe. He felt incandescent as the machine thrummed to life, and suddenly he could see --

Everything.

*****

Charles felt giddy as he lounged on his bed, thinking about all of the people he had glimpsed through Cerebro. They had managed to increase Charles’s natural telepathic range tenfold, and by the end of the session he could feel mutants fully across the country. He could see them all, clear and crisp. He bit his fist to keep from laughing as Hank read a journal at his desk.

Charles had met Henry McCoy at a Mutant Education symposium four years prior, and discovered that, in addition to both being prodigies and mutants, they had similar theories as to how one might amplify telepathy over greater distances for non-weaponized purposes. They corresponded feverishly on the project, but they could only accomplish so much without a working lab. Fortunately, their combined efforts led to interest from several well-regarded universities, and they were able to continue their research as they pursued degrees.

Their supervising professors had been gratifyingly impressed by the success of their first trial run, and even Stryker seemed pleased. He and Hank declined his offer of a celebratory drink, however. Something about Stryker set him on edge, and both Charles and Hank preferred to return to the dorm and celebrate with their friends.

A blue-skinned, naked young woman knocked and popped her head in, smiling widely, and breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hey, dorks.”

Hank blushed madly as Charles waved. Raven rolled her eyes and leaned on the door frame.

“We heard the good news! You’re the toast of campus tonight.”

“Thanks,” Charles answered, but Raven cut him off before he could continue.

“We’re having a Mutant and Proud mixer later on in Darwin and Alex’s room. Since the party’s in your honor, you can’t skip it this time. Be there or Emma’ll make you think you’re a toad.” She tossed a wink over her shoulder as she skipped out of the room without waiting for their reply.

Hank looked over his shoulder. “What do you think?” He asked.

Charles shrugged “Why not? It’s better than drinking with Stryker. We can run the numbers tomorrow.”

*****

Alex and Darwin were perched on one of the two twin beds along with Angel and Emma, who seemed content to ignore most of the revelers by discussing the latest scandal amongst the professors. Charles slumped against Raven on the other bed as her roommate Kitty pet his hair.

He’d been sneaking pulls off of Angel’s flask, and now his bones were gone. It felt nice, however, so he didn’t bother worrying.

“Are you always a giggly drunk?” Raven teased.

“I haven’t the foggiest. This’s the first...first time.” His body flushed with pleasant warmth, and when he grinned, Kitty laughed.

“Okay, maybe it’s time to cut the telepath off,” Hank said, smiling soppily from the floor, where he had been conversing with Sean.

“But he’s like our own personal contact high” Alex called over. Emma rolled her eyes as Angel giggled.

“Aw,” Raven cooed, “he’s like a cross between a little brother and a puppy. With fewer pee accidents. I hope.”

“Unf,” mumbled Charles as he twisted to find a more comfortable position. Everyone’s minds came together as a gentle background hum and Charles’s mind stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam. He hadn’t felt this nice since before Kurt and Cain, when he’d played and wasted long days with Erik.

He had no idea he projected his thoughts until Sean asked him “So, who’s Cain?”

Charles frowned deeply. He didn’t like thinking about _that_ at all. “Nothin’,” he muttered as he curled into Raven.

“Hey,” Raven said as she poked him in his side. “C’mon, you know our secrets. Pony up.”

”C’mon dude, I told you all about my asshole brother”, Alex cajoled.

“Maybe we should leave him alone,” Hank offered, worry blanketing Charles while everyone else’s curiosity pressed upon him.

“He was my brother--” Charles admitted without intending to.

“I thought you didn’t have any siblings,” Raven interrupted.

“I _did_ ”.

“What happened to Cain,” Kitty asked, gently. Silence fell on the room, as his friends surrounded him with overwhelming care. He opened his mouth to thank everyone for their consideration, but his voice surprised him, instead murmuring --

“He disappeared. We were in the woods and the tall man took him.”

The once-comfortable bed now felt like he lay on a cool forest floor, crisscrossed with roots and branches. He crinkled his nose as Kitty’s hair brush his face. For a moment, it felt like fingers stroking his cheek.

“Sorry,” he said as he tried to sit up. “‘S not a nice story.”

“Oh,” Darwin breathed from across the room, “Oh, Charles, I’m sorry.” Smatterings of agreement from the others echoed around the room.

“Maybe we should head back,” Hank said, breaking the awkward silence.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Nerves slithered over each other like snakes in the pit of his stomach.

“Wait a sec,” Raven muttered as she pulled Charles in for a one-armed hug. “Up for a picture with your favorite gal on your big night?”

Charles nodded as Darwin pulled out his phone and took a picture of Raven hugging Charles tightly around the neck. “That’s strange,” he muttered as he examined the result. “I think my camera’s screwy.” He tossed the phone over, and Raven snorted.

“ _Something’s off_.” She handed the phone to Charles so he could see. It took a long moment to focus, and when he did, it took a longer moment to figure out what he saw. Raven looked fine, but Charles’ face was blurred, and a light hovered behind him.

They stumbled down the unremarkable hallway towards their room without remark. Charles’s head spun and whirled and he fell into bed still wearing his clothing from the day. Hank went about his nightly routine, and the room fell into gentle quiet.

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not talk,” Charles whispered when he felt his bed dip under body weight. No audible response came, but fingertips carded through his hair before trailing down to caress Charles’s face.

“Hank, what are you doing?” Charles exclaimed.

“Brushing my teeth.” Hank’s voice came from the tiny bathroom they shared with Remy and Scott. “Why?”

Charles’ eyes snapped open. The dim light streaming through the window showed Charles that he was alone in the room.

“This isn’t funny.” Charles called, clinging to the hope that Hank decided to play a joke, never mind how out of character it would be for his roommate, _never mind_ how difficult it would be to play such a joke on a highly ranked telepath.

Hank wandered out from the bathroom and shut the door behind him, and looked over and took in Charles’ hunched, petrified form. “Are you alright? Charles?”

“Did you touch me, just now?”

“What? No. What are you talking about?”

“I thought I felt, just now - never mind. It was probably nothing.”

“Are you sure,” Hank asked, painfully sincere. “Charles, if something’s not right....you can tell me. You know that, right? If, tonight, talking about….Or if Cerebro was too much.”

“I’m fine. Just, it’s been a long time since I thought about Cain,” Charles lied, “and mixing Cerebro and drinks didn’t agree with me. You know how unfocused telepaths can be.” Hank seemed content to let the matter drop, and Charles almost believed it himself. At least until, right before he crossed the border to sleep, he felt the suggestion of fingertips running gently over his flank, the soft puff of breath at his neck.

*****

Charles dreamed of the tall man. He’d had similar dreams throughout the years -- more often than not he would greet Charles in dreams, sometimes directly, other times lurking in the shadows. The man still looked so very pale, but now seemed more _human_. He looked less unnaturally tall, and severe dark hair now covered his scalp. A toothy, wide grin split his face and his quicksilver eyes somehow simultaneously dull and bright. Charles wavered between attracted and repulsed in equal measure.

In the dream, the man backed him against a tree. As always, Charles found himself frozen. “It’s time, once again,” the man murmured into Charles’ ear in a parody of seduction. His hand slowly stroked from Charles’ hair to his chest, tracing burning shapes over Charles’s heart. “It’s been too long, but soon we’ll never be alone again, will we?”

He snapped awake, heart pounding in his ears, gasping and searching around the room. Hank’s familiar bulk sat at his computer.

“Morning”, mumbled Charles. Hank looked over his shoulder and paled.

“Jesus, Charles.” Hank sprinted across the room in a flash, easing Charles back down to his bed.

“What? What’s going on?”

“What happened?” Hank gestured to Charles’ shirt, broadcasting clumsy panic. Something had torn it in several places and charred it at the edges.

“What?” Charles asked numbly as he scrambled out of the top and threw it on the floor. For good measure, he poked it with a nearby ruler.

“Oh dear,” Hank murmured. Charles looked down. Something had branded an Ⓧ onto his skin, directly over his heart. Charles swallowed and ran a finger over the mark. It was raised from his flesh, uneven and rough and already looked as set in as his childhood scars. He felt childish, but couldn't stop himself from wishing that Erik were real.

“What...Charles, _what happened?_ Who did this?”

Charles exhaled and looked at the ceiling like it might somehow have the answers. If so, it refused to share. “It happened in the dream,” he muttered, thought he knew Hank didn’t believe him even before the man opened his mouth.

“Charles. That’s, that’s not possible,” Hank replied with a kind voice. His mind spun with possibilities about Cerebro’s possible after-effects, how upset Charles had been the night before. Charles sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I didn’t do this, Hank. I _didn’t_ ”. He paced the narrow aisle between their beds. “I swear it wasn’t me.” Hank looked at him with sympathy, though his thoughts were unchanged.

But still, Charles balked at sharing more about the tall man.

“Listen. Can we talk about this later?,” he begged. He followed his words with a suggestion to leave well enough alone. “I need to, to study. And we have to continue with Cerebro. Just, _please_ Hank.”

“Sure. Of course, whatever you need. Just. Be careful. Okay?”

He nodded, unable to look Hank in the eye. “I will. You too.”

“I’m heading to class. I’ll see you later, in the lab, I guess.” Charles nodded again, tracking Hank’s progress in the room out of the corner of his eye, until he finally left, and then silently following Hank’s mind until he exited the building.

Certain now of his solitude, he pulled himself into a ball in the middle of his bed and stayed like that for a long time, his hand pressed unconsciously over his heart.

*****

Life, as Charles’ mum used to think, has a way of carrying on, whether you were ready for it or not. She found the exception to the rule several years ago, when she and Kurt were struck by a drunk driver and killed on impact. Nevertheless, he found it to be applicable advice in most situations, including the situation at hand. He wouldn’t find any answers sitting in his room, and missing classes would only beget awkward questions from his friends and professors alike.

Halfway through his second class of the morning, he picked up a loud thought from Raven, a mental knock clearly trying to get his attention.

_Shouldn’t you be taking notes?_ he pushed with a mental smile.

_Ha ha. How are you?_ Charles caught a flash of her memory from last night, an image of him, pale and miserable.

_I’m fine. Really._

_See, Charles, I don’t really believe that._

_It’s true, Raven. You don’t_ need _to believe it_. His mental voice sounded uncharacteristically brusque, but he couldn’t help it.

Raven sent an equivalent to a chagrined sigh. _Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed last night. If you want to talk about it, I’m here, but take your time or whatever. But I do care, okay? Just, don’t keep us out._

He relaxed, a bit, at that. _I’m sorry too. I’m not used to discussing it._ A memory played through his mind, unbidden -- the tall man grabbing Cain in the moonlight. He swore to himself when Raven’s mind flared in curiosity. _Kitty yelled at you for making me share my traumatic past, didn’t she?,_ He asked quickly, and smiled into his notes when she sent him a very indignant mental squawk.

_Hey asshole, I’ll have you know I already felt bad before Kitty started yelling. I’m empathetic as fuck._

_Brilliant. I’m fine. I_ will _be fine, okay? Class is letting out, though, and I have to meet Hank at Cerebro. I’ll talk to you later?_

_I’ll kick your ass later_ she shot, and then, hesitantly, _but we’re ok now, yeah? I really am sorry about last night._

_Of course we are. After all, as you’re so fond of reminding me, you are my only friend. It wouldn’t do to toss you aside so soon_.

Charles pulled away, hoping she hadn’t caught the full extent of his rogue memory.

*****

“Hey, you’re here,” Hank called from underneath one of the several consoles surrounding the user platform as Charles entered the lab.

“Of course. How are we coming?” Charles asked as he propped himself on a desk.

“Fine. We’re pretty much set.” Hank crawled to his feet and set up the control panel as Charles took his place and pulled on the helmet. He heard the usual buzzing as the system came online, and cried out as his mind took flight. He heard himself laughing as he flitted from mutant to mutant, as transcendental as before.

Except. Charles frowned and blinked his eyes. Everything grew dark, as if covered by a thick, malevolent fog. One by one the mutants before him stopped whatever they were doing, radiating confusion and pain.

“Stop, Hank. Stop, now,” he barked. He closed his eyes when the shock of the sudden disconnect hit.

“What happened,” Hank called, “What did you see?”.

“I… I don’t know. It was, dark. Something interfered with the connection. I think it bled out to everyone I touched.” His mouth dried before he could say anything about the figures. And, he thought darkly, Hank wouldn't believe him anyway.

Hank inhaled sharply, mind buzzing with anger. “No one was supposed to come in here but us.” He paused by the door, looking back at Charles. “I don’t think we should try anything else today. You look like hell. Why don’t you go get some sleep? It’s been a hard few days, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Charles said. His smile felt like a lie, but Hank seemed satisfied enough to smile back before he strode out the door, mind already leaving Charles behind.

*****

Darkness cloaked the dorm when Charles returned. Lights usually shone brightly in the hallways at all times, but something must have gone wrong. He clutched his backpack tightly before starting down a long corridor lit only by the moon streaming through a window at the far end.

Charles couldn’t explain it -- he had walked this same corridor hundreds of times, but it had never felt so long, nor had he ever felt so watched. He kept marching forward, towards his room.

Behind him, something hissed his name, low and silky, “ _Chaaaaarlesssssssss_ ”.

He spun around, feeling blindly with his mind for whomever or whatever watched him, but found nothing. No students, no teachers. Not even revelers streaming homeward from the bars nearby.

Charles turned back to the moonlight, which appeared somehow further away than it had been just a moment ago. He set forward again, at a jog, but the window stayed stubbornly ahead in the distance. Hands brushed at him as he passed accompanied by an unintelligible murmur. His skin prickled with cold sweat and his breathing came in halting gasps.

“Chaaaarles,” the voice breathed from nearby. He ran faster, harder, but couldn’t gain any ground. He glanced over his shoulder to see if he could gauge how far he may have come, but darkness swallowed everything behind him.

When he looked forward, he skidded to a stop. The window, now no more than ten yards away, framed a tall, spidery figure silhouetted by the moon. It slowly advanced upon him. Charles backed up, hitting a wall that he knew had not been there moments before. He groped for a handle, but only grasped at a smooth expanse of plaster.

“Hello, Charles,” something cooed, and if Charles had any doubts that the tall man stood before him they would have been vanquished by that voice.

“ _Go away,_ ” Charles shouted as he lashed out with the full strength of his telepathy. The tall man didn’t respond aside from continuing his slow advance. He reached out towards Charles, whispering something indistinctly as light flooded the hall, from all directions. He blinked and looked around. Students were bustling up and down the hall as normal.

The man was gone.

“Hey Chuck, you see a ghost?” Logan asked as he clapped Charles on the shoulder.

“No,” Charles muttered. “Sorry, just…Long day.”

“Sure,” Logan said. “You telepaths are a strange bunch, you know. You and Jean oughtta start a support group, eh?”

“Yeah, we’ll make Emma treasurer,”

Logan raised an eyebrow and cryptically muttered, “Yeah. Like I said, weird.” He pushed off from the wall to punch Scott in the shoulder. Charles rolled his eyes and pushed into his room.

****

The next morning, Charles woke roughly, opening his eyes to see Hank crouched low, shaking his arm.  
“Charles, we need to talk.” Charles’ stomach dropped.

“What happened? Is it Cerebro?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s...I, I don’t know.” Hank’s mind throbbed like a bruise. “Charles, listen. I think I have something you need to see.” He prodded Charles into the chair before his large monitor, and brought up a video.

Their tiny, disorganized room filled the screen. Darkness obscured most of the image, but moonlight streaming in through the window showed Charles’s sleeping body. The timestamp dated from early that morning played in the corner.

“Hank, what is this?”

“Shh, just watch,” Hank gritted out, mind tensed and closed. Charles turned back to the screen.

“I’m not seeing anything except me sleeping, Hank.”

“Watch yourself. On the video.”

Charles narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the screen, shouting when the shadowy outline of a hand extended over his face, trailing from his cheek to his heart. A body slowly followed. Its silhouette contrasted sharply against the moonlight.

“It’s there for four hours.” Hank supplied. “It didn’t move”.

“Where did you find this?” His voice cracked as he swung around to look Hank fully in the face. How, he thought desperately, could this be happening? A wild thought of the tall man renting audio visual equipment crossed his mind before he realized that Hank radiated guilt. “Hank, what’s going on?”

“I was trying to help!” The floodgates opened, and Hanks thoughts washed over Charles. He felt relieved, in a way, because Charles’s claims that morning had given Hank pause. It made no sense, but what if? The only way to find out would be to gather evidence. Hank could rig their room with a camera in minutes. He owed it to Charles to try.

Charles knew he should be more upset, but the fact that finally, _finally_ , someone believed him made his knees weak. He looked back at the screen, at the shadow hand covering his torso.

”It was on the video for four hours,” Hank continued at Charles’s mental prodding, “But. I got home while it was still there, Charles, and I didn’t see _anything_. The video shows us in the room together, but I never saw anything.” Hank paused and considered Charles closely. “And you, you don’t seem very surprised by this. What’s going on?”

“He took Cain. It’s _him_.” Telling Hank about the tall man felt like lancing a wound, and took surprisingly little time. For such a big part of him, Charles mused, it didn’t take any time at all. When he finished, Hank remained quiet for a moment, his mind radiating with whirling ideas and no small amount of fear, but most importantly, quiet, sturdy belief in what Charles had said.

“I think.” Hank paused as he wiped off his glasses. “I think I don’t understand what’s going on here. But whatever it is, it’s drawn to you. I think it attached itself to your telepathy. Maybe, maybe we can use Cerebro? That might draw it out, and we can at least try to get more information.”

Charles wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m hardly the first telepath. Wouldn’t something like this have happened before?”

“Well, there’s never _been_ a telepath as strong as you, before. It’s uncharted territory. But I don’t have any other ideas. I’m willing to try if you are.”

“Yeah”. Charles smiled at Hank, trying to convey thanks and gratitude and, for the first time as far as the tall man went, hope. “Yeah, it’s worth a shot. I’m just going to stop by Raven’s for a moment. I missed her last night.”

Hank furrowed his brow and his thoughts turned muddled and worried as he asked, “Who?”

*****

Charles reached Raven’s room and started pounding at her door even before he became aware that he had moved.

“Raven. _Raven_?”

He almost fell when the door swung open, but pale, warm hands steadied him. Kitty peered at him with concern.

“What’s wrong? What about ravens? Are you okay, Charles?”

“Raven. Where is she?” Kitty’s confused face and mind spoke volumes, although it told nothing Charles didn’t already know, hadn’t known since hearing and reading Hank. He bowed his head and fought down hot tears.

“Hey. Charles. Look at me.” Kitty rubbed his back, long, calming circles.

“I’m fine,” Charles lied. “Thank you.” He felt only a bit guilty as he projected false assurances, and a suggestion to believe him, to abstain from asking further. “I should be going, but thank you.”

As he walked down the hallway, he reached out telepathically to everyone on the floor, in the building. Students bustled about, as usual, unaware of his invisible watch. It didn’t occur to him until he had reached his own door that he could no longer feel Hank. Not in the building, not on campus anywhere. Not in any of the minds around him, not even as a memory.

Charles let himself sag against the door, for a moment. “Fuck.” He felt brittle, and numb, and so angry. His hands shook at his sides as he swallowed down a scream. Anger wouldn’t help him, not if he was blinded by it. But he couldn’t stand by and wait for someone else to disappear. He stood up and ran towards the exit. One way or another, he would put an end to whatever was happening.

Cerebro was waiting.

*****

The run to the labs passed in an indistinct blur. Charles sent out an order to everyone near to leave the premises, immediately as he turned on the computers attached to Cerebro.

He paused when setting the search parameters. He and Hank had successfully used Cerebro to cover the North American continent. After a moment he reset them to encompass the world. They had never tried so large an area, but he knew he could do it.

He didn’t realize he had company until he had nearly finished. When he looked up, the tall man smiled and inclined his head from where he stood in the doorway. Charles hadn’t seen him in full light before, and the man’s beauty took his breath away. He took a moment to catalogue the strong jaw and the appealing lines of his face. It was, Charles thought, a terrible thing, to be confronted with something so awful, in the full sense of the word.

“Who are you?” Charles whispered as he stood. The man smiled wider, repulsively lovely, and stepped closer.

“Don’t ask stupid questions. You know who I am, Charles.” He raised a hand and cupped Charles’ cheek so, so gently. This close, Charles could smell him, earthy and familiar. “We’ve always been together.”

“No. I don’t know, but. I have Cerebro, now. I can fight. I’m not a scared little boy in the woods anymore.”

“Charles. Charles,” the man shook his head, cruelly beautiful, and almost stricken. “I’ve never hurt you. I never _will_ hurt you. You’re mine, Charles. You always have been. Just as I’m yours.”

“No”. Charles closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. But the man kept speaking, and his changeable eyes shone silver in the night. His thin lips seemed to twist at Charles’ thought. Just like....

Just like Erik.

The man -- Erik -- smiled. “I knew you’d get it, sooner or later.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Charles moaned. “I was a boy. I made you up! You’re _made up_ , this can’t be real.”

Erik smiled, and rested his forehead against Charles’. He wanted to fight, or run, but he couldn’t move. “Are you really comparing us with most little children and their little friends? Charles, have you never realized how special you are? _You_ made me real.”

Charles shook his head, trying to clear the strange cloudiness threatening to overwhelm him. “Why are you _doing_ this?”

“You wanted me to. Don’t you remember? You called for me, that night. You wanted Cain to stop. I stopped him.”

“But not like that.” Cain’s screams echoed in his memory, and he couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“Yes, like _that_ ,” Erik snapped. “Did you think he brought you out there for a picnic? Did you think you’d hug the next day and turn into one big happy family? You created me, and I did what you needed me to do. I protected you, Charles.”

“No, I-I wanted a friend, we were _friends_.”

Erik sighed into Charles’ hair. “At first, yes. You needed a friend. So did I, remember. But then _they_ came. Cain deserved what he got,” he continued viciously, “and I only regret Kurt never got his.”

“He was a child. What he did was wrong, but he didn’t deserve-”

“Charles, you made me. I’m yours. You told me you were mine, too. _No one_ hurts what’s mine. And I _don’t_ share.”

“I don’t _understand_!”

“You couldn’t see me, after they came,” Erik responded with a plaintive, almost petulant voice. “Not when you had to hide from _them_. I couldn’t let that happen, Charles, but I couldn’t do anything until you called for me that night. You set me free.”

“Oh my god,” Charles closed his eyes and sagged backwards against the wall. “I did this. You - Cain, Raven, Stephen. Hank. They would be safe if it weren’t for me.” What would they have done, he wondered, if they had never met him? Who would Cain have become if he had a chance to grow up? He might have changed. He could have been a good man. Charles would never know. No one would.

“They don’t deserve you, Charles. They don’t care, not like I do. Don’t you see? We can change the world, you and I. It’ll be safe for you, finally. We just need to get rid of the trash. All you’d need is me.”

“No. No, I won’t let that happen.”

“Do you think I’m giving you a choice?”

Charles glanced towards Cerebro. Erik followed his gaze and stepped back. “By all means, try it.” Charles swallowed, looking between Erik and Cerebro. Charles wanted to try, to do something, but the gleam in Erik’s eyes gave him pause. He and Erik were linked, after all. If Cerebro amplified his abilities, what else might it do? He couldn’t take that chance.

And how -- how could he forget the dark fog from yesterday?

“No. I-I’ll stop this. You can’t do this without me. You need me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If I die, so will you, right?”

Erik shoved him against the wall and snarled in his face. “You will do no such thing. Do you think that’s how this works? You set me free, and if you ever even think of leaving me again I _swear_ that I will drown this world in blood.”

Charles closed his eyes, and tried to shield against the pressure of Erik’s words until for the first time in his life, he was completely alone in his head.

“They’re gone, Charles. What’s done is done.” Erik’s voice rumbled, low and soothing, and it enveloped him like a blanket. He couldn’t think, but didn’t know whether to blame Erik or his own battered mind. “You know better than anyone. The world is a cruel, terrible place, and if you give it a chance it will do cruel and terrible things to you, again, and again.”

Charles started to cry, hot, uncontrolled sobs, and felt a sick sense of relief as he Erik gathered him close in his first full hug since they’d ran free in the forest together in his childhood.

“They’ll make you a weapon, Charles. And they’ll turn you against what you love, unless you hit them first. All of them.”

Minds pressed against his shielding -- security agents roused by his shouting and despair. He closed his hand around the lapels of Erik’s suit.

“I don’t know what to do anymore”, he whispered, brokenly.

“I’ll help you. You don’t have to think of anything, so long as you think of me.” Charles felt the pressure of a soft kiss against his temple, and sagged against Erik. He felt so, so tired.

He barely felt it as he was led to the center of the room. “It’s time, Charles,” Erik whispered into his hair, breath hot against his ear. Erik placed Cerebro’s crown on his head. He closed his eyes as the machine powered on, and waited with bated breath for Erik to tell him what to do.

*****  
Afterwards, the two of them stood in the dawn of a terrible, empty new world. Erik squeezed the back of Charles’s neck as the two listened for any sign of life. They needn’t have bothered – Erik had been thorough when he cleansed the world. Charles wept, although he didn’t understand why. Erik seemed pleased; if Erik was pleased, everything _must_ be fine. Their footsteps seem out of place in the silence as Erik led him to a tall, imposing chair. Charles sat at Erik’s gentle urging and relaxed as Erik’s murmured promises of love and care for him faded to silence.

As he’d wished on a dark night all those years ago, it was finally quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> This story draws on the slenderman mythos as well as the Tupla Effect. Knowledge of these are not mandatory, but they are interesting and worth looking into if you like horror-y things.


End file.
